#they were just built for this format idk

[number1greedlingfan]

autism be damned i can cook

[rapturously]

Idk exactly what to ask for, but I have an ✨idea✨

Dwayne who seemingly has a penchant for choking his SO. He just loves the little whimpers and moans they make, and the way they squirm.

Really basic, ik 💀. You can take this and run, or simply enjoy this thought with me, but I wanted to share 🥰

moving in stereo.

( dwayne x fem!reader. )

➾ pairing ; dwayne x fem!reader.

format: one-shot — requested.

word count: 5.9K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), making out, dirty talk, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), bloodplay (he’s a vampire), breast-play, biting, hair-pulling, scratching, breeding kink, scent kink, p in v sex, missionary position, rough sex, begging, unprotected sex, mating press (a little bit), choking, bruising/marking, dwayne is hot

author’s note: i am so obsessed with him, it’s not even funny ngl :’) also, I have a couple of other fics/drabbles that I’ll probably post tonight too, I’m definitely feeling very inspired! If you haven’t voted on my poll, please do so! thank you guys sm for your continued love & support !! ❤️

Beads of blood filled your mouth as you absentmindedly chewed at the skin of your cheek, flesh taut between your back molars — you hadn’t intended to bite down as hard as you did. A singular glance at Dwayne’s hands had contorted into shameless ogling, smitten hues discreetly flickering over the veins and smudges of grayish grease coating his fingers.

He had a way with machinery that transcended you — he often claimed that it was simply natural instinct, but your running theory was something buried in his past life. Dwayne was known for his stoicism and quiet demeanor, neglecting to educate you on his background.

It must’ve been a life of hard work — otherwise, his hands wouldn’t have appeared so rough and calloused. They weren’t smooth and spindly like Marko’s, or pretty like Paul’s. They were taut and thick, dexterous and built for destruction, if he let it.

Hands that had held you many times before, touched you in ways that you longed to feel again. A shudder rolled down your spine as you daydreamed, mind floating into a fantastical haze of lascivious thoughts. If it weren’t for the presence of the other boys, a tendril of drool might’ve leaked from the corner of your mouth.

“It’s fucked, isn’t it?”

Paul’s agitated groan reverberated throughout the cavern as he crouched beside his boombox, slapping a palm against the top of the speaker, as if that would cure all ailments. His brows furrowed together, lip curled in annoyance as he knocked his hand against the machine a second time — for good measure.

“You’ll ruin it if you keep it up.” Dwayne’s monotonous remark echoed from the opposite side of the lobby. He was entrenched in repairing his motorcycle after it had gotten vandalized by a Surf-Nazi who didn’t live to tell the tale. Paul’s beloved stereo was the least of his concerns.

“How are we gonna listen to Alice?” A begrudging sigh escaped Paul, whose theatrics weren’t out of the ordinary. He huffed, falling in a dramatic heap along the edge of the dilapidated fountain. “Can’t you fix it, Dwayne?” He asked, peering toward his brother, who seemed entirely uninterested.

Silence filled the chasm between them, prompting you to stifle a smile. Dwayne didn’t enjoy being bothered whenever he was working on a project — he was always one to see it through until the very end.

David and Marko emerged from their abysmal resting place. Once the sun disappeared behind the ocean and dusk consumed dawn, the boys became wildly active. “Paul,” David’s voice carried, always domineering without even trying. “Let’s go.”

Disappointed in the lack of closure for his treasured boombox, Paul relented, rolling off of the stone bannister with an exaggerated sigh. He ruffled your hair in passing, and smacked Dwayne on the way out, who didn’t flinch or move a muscle. He simply exhaled — you could sense the twinge of irritation in his sigh alone.

Paul snickered, hopping up the ledge alongside David and Marko. “See you later, bud.” He sneered, waving at you as he departed with his brothers. Once the trio slunk away into the moonlight, it left you and Dwayne by yourselves in the cave.

You could’ve watched Dwayne work for hours, captivated by the way he dismantled the machinery, handling the finer pieces with nimble digits. He was wrist-deep in the grease-laden guts of his motorcycle, surrounded by a myriad of scrap and parts. His dark brows were furrowed together in stark concentration.

Intrigued, you abandoned your perch — a rickety, velvet-cushioned chair that had come with the hotel’s ancient wreckage. Paul’s stereo was sitting along the ledge, awaiting a tune-up that you knew Dwayne would inevitably provide. You sat down, inspecting it for any damage — it looked unharmed, on the outside.

“Do you think it was a user error sort of thing?” A burst of laughter escaped you as you opened up the hatch for the cassette tapes, noticing a rather banged-up copy of Alice Cooper’s Constrictor from ‘86. It was a good choice — you had to commend Paul’s taste in music.

Dwayne’s soft, bemused huff was all you needed to hear, prompting you to smile. You never mistook his tranquil, halcyon demeanor as indifference — he was a man of very few words. Even his temper wasn’t violent or tempestuous, like that of Marko or David. His placidity in most things was what drew you to him in the first place.

Being a human amongst a den of rancorous vampires wasn’t your intention, but you were happy — happiest with Dwayne, above all. He was the best boyfriend you’d ever had, not that it was a lengthy list. You idly fiddled with some of the switches on the boombox, removing and reinserting the cassette before closing it up.

Much to your chagrin, the stereo didn’t work — maybe it wasn’t Paul’s imagination after all. You gently nudged it back along the ledge, abandoning it for now. “How come you didn’t go with the others?” You inquired, folding one leg over the other, tapping the heel of your boot against the dusty stone.

There was a slight shift in his body language — a mere shrug of his broad shoulders, accompanied by the noises of metal clanging, gears twisting, and then he grunted. “I’m not looking for dinner.” Dwayne replied, matter-of-factly. He was in the midst of replacing the engine on his bike, placing the damaged part aside, hands stained in dark ichor.

With a soft hum, you pushed yourself off of the ledge, wandering over toward Dwayne’s scrapyard — a rather cluttered corner of the cave that acted as a makeshift garage. You sat along one of the flat outcroppings of rock, opting to watch him fix up his motorcycle. It would intrigue you more than messing with the boombox ever would.

His pearlescent teeth clenched around a wrench, clutched between his maw as he focused on putting the new engine back in. There was a quiet appreciation that he held for you — you were always respectful of his hobbies, if this even counted as one. Dark eyes flickered toward you, sitting there in your billowing sundress like some statuesque angel.

Dwayne appraised you in his usual silence, eyes carefully raking along your physique, as if he were undressing you through gaze alone. His jaw tensed, a fire beginning to spark within his chest, threatening to spread like an encroaching wildfire the longer he ogled you.

Sundresses were a hot commodity — and they never lasted, either. Dwayne made sure of it, and once he got his hands on you, that pretty fabric shielding you from him would cease to exist. He made it up to you with the gift of another, but rest assured, it would be shortlived.

It was a mutual feeling, the silent staring. His keen hues settled along the supple curves hiding just beneath that thin veil of fabric while you were captivated by the visual feast of strong, capable hands and taut forearms. You folded your hands within your lap, beginning to absentmindedly chew at your inner cheek again.

Your scent wafted throughout the short distance between the both of you, heavy with hints of your favorite perfume, a saccharine concoction that Dwayne had grown accustomed to. He loved your smell — it was unique to you, invading his senses as he continued his work.

Those strong, muscled hands of his were buried in the underbelly of the motorcycle, carefully placing the new engine back inside. He began to fasten it all into place, removing the wrench from his mouth, quickly fixing it all up with a series of bolts, screws, and metallic plates.

“I’ll teach you sometime.” Dwayne was, oddly enough, the one to shatter the comfortable silence between the both of you. He prided himself on playing mechanic — his ability to handle such equipment and repair it was rather renowned. Once he was satisfied with the job, he sat back, peering toward you.

Warmth oozed from those earthen-brown hues of his, coupled with a subtle adoration that only he possessed for you. Your smile only served to further it, the only thing to make his dead heart pump to life again.

“I’d like that,” You mused, canting your head to one side. “I think you should fix Paul’s stereo, too.” Even if Dwayne had brushed him off before, he would fix it and have it ready for him whenever he came back. It was the right thing to do, anyway.

Dwayne huffed, lips twitching into a threadbare smile, wrought with traces of amusement. He didn’t say anything — he didn’t need to. He wiped his hands off along the crimson cloth he carried in his back pocket, ridding his hands of engine grease and oil.

He stood, filling in his full height as he bent down to give you a kiss, hand carding through the back of your skull. It never failed to make you shudder, haplessly squeezing your thighs together as you reached for his forearm. Powerful, taut muscle flexed underneath your fingertips, and his kiss briefly intensified before he withdrew.

That familiar aching sensation flickered to life between your legs, a dull arousal pooling within your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to cling to him, beg for another kiss, but Dwayne was already over to the stereo, inspecting it for any damage it might’ve had.

For Dwayne, your mind was exceptionally loud — he could read your thoughts, hear them screaming from afar, which he happened to smile at from where he stood. The feeling was mutual, but he wanted to make you stew in it for a little while — it heightened the experience.

As he dismantled the stereo, you decided to go elsewhere — to Paul’s nest, which wasn’t the brightest idea, but he had an impressive collection of cassette tapes. You began climbing toward the rocky slope that led off into alcoves, using some of the ropes hanging about to pull yourself up.

“Where are you going?” Dwayne asked, seemingly finding the source of the boombox’s disarray — there were pieces of tape stuck in the machine.

“To see what Paul has to listen to,” You mused, nose wrinkling in amusement. “It’s the least that he can do for you since you fixed it. We should go listen to music.” Truthfully, Dwayne owned that stupid stereo just as much as Paul did — joint custody, you’d called it.

Hawkish, dark hues drank you in from afar, and Dwayne decided that he’d indulge himself in your wishes, picking up the boombox by the bottom. The handle had been broken off long ago — courtesy of Paul, once again. He simply trailed behind you, briefly pressing his hand against the small of your back when you made it up the incline, keeping you steady.

Paul’s nest was notoriously cluttered — in a very fascinating and macabre manner. It was littered in trinkets, things he’d taken from people he fed from, bones and all, or general thievary. The boys were all like this, but not to Paul’s level.

Posters of hair-bands and metal groups hung all around the rock, illuminated by flickering candlelight. It smelled faintly of marijuana, decorated by a patchwork array of tapestries, clothes, and stolen jackets. The guitar he’d lifted off of a traveling rock group sat on his bed — he always talked about starting a band.

A mountain of cassette tapes lay in a semi-organized heap, many of them taken from Videomax or anywhere he could find them. Dwayne simply stood at the fringes of Paul’s nest, watching as you picked through his extensive collection. You smiled at the handful you’d grabbed, rejoining Dwayne as the two of you made for his nest.

In an amusing juxtaposition, Dwayne’s nest was noticeably simplistic — yet, his personality was scrawled all over it. He liked to read, keeping a trunk of books, tools he’d taken from garages, and some trinkets stashed away in a large piece of a drawer.

He hadn’t bothered to invest in a bed for several decades — not until he got entangled with you. When Marko had mentioned it to you in-passing, it was rather intriguing, but you never asked Dwayne about it.

With the stereo now placed at the foot of his makeshift bed, placed atop a rather rickety wooden trunk, you ejected Alice Cooper from the hatch and put in The Cars, instead. Dwayne happened to regard this choice with curiosity, sitting along the edge of the mattress.

Moving in Stereo began to drift through the alcove, and you promptly fell back against the plush surface, tucking your hands atop your chest. “This song reminds me of you.” You murmured, gazing at the cavernous ceiling, focused on the jagged edges and outcroppings of rock.

Dwayne seemed curious, twisting slightly to face you. Even when sitting, he towered over you, indomitable and immovable, a wall of sheer strength and muscle. “Why does it remind you of me?” He wanted to hear your answer, eyes flickering toward your exposed stomach.

You smiled, somewhat embarrassed, but you decided to answer him anyway. “I don’t know,” You began, rolling over onto your side, propping yourself up with one hand. “Just a bit of a mystery, but alluring. It’s pretty magnetizing.” With a soft exhale, you began to pick at a stray string on one of the blankets that covered the mattress.

“Magnetizing,” Dwayne echoed, withholding the urge to smirk. Instead, he joined you, laying on his side as he mirrored your position, face mere centimeters away from yours. “You got a way with words, girl.” His chest shook with a brief huff before he leaned in to kiss you.

If a kiss could have destroyed you, this was it — Dwayne’s mouth consumed you, intensified by your seemingly innocuous words. He tasted good, like spiced smoke and the faint bite of copper.

You were eternally grateful to The Cars — Dwayne was careening into you, broad chest flush against yours, veined hand grasping at the base of your skull. Thick digits massaged at the nape of your neck, coaxing you close until there was no space left between you, lips voraciously tangling with yours.

He ripped all wisps of air from your lungs, as cold as ice as he shrugged off his jacket. Arousal reactivated inside of you, no longer dormant as your warm hands reached for his chest, feeling broad muscle underneath your palms. He felt like a god — chiseled, forever perfect — you were sometimes in-awe of his beauty.

In awe — Dwayne smirked against your mouth, unable to help himself when it came to your overactive imagination and racing thoughts. He pushed his hand underneath your shirt, fingers tracing along your curves as he began to feel a familiar tightening in his jeans.

Your scent thoroughly intoxicated him — your natural musk, the cling of perfume, the arousal coalescing between your thighs — it was a perfect amalgamation. Dwayne exhaled, sitting up and taking you with him, hands hooking into the hem of your shirt as he peeled it off of you.

His lips were on your flesh again, hands tearing your thin brassiere apart with ease, reveling in your warmth. Dwayne pressed a string of kisses along your neck, feeling the thrum of your pulse point pound against his mouth. The shorts you wore still clung to your frame, but they wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Dwayne,” You sighed, The Cars becoming nothing more than atmospheric background noise. Liquid heat pooled between your legs, a shiver rolling down your spine as he laid you down against the mattress, covering you with his body. Your eyes locked together as he stared down at you, gaze boring right through you. “I need you.”

Dwayne kissed your neck, sucking enough to create a hickey before he traveled to the base of your throat, peppering kisses across your collarbone. “Where do you need me, sweet girl?” His husky, warm baritone made you shiver in delight. Those eyes raked over you in rapture, full of reverence.

“Everywhere,” You whimpered, goosebumps coalescing along your spine. Dwayne’s huff of laughter made you smile, and you quickly urged him closer for another kiss. His mouth crashed against yours, passionate and blistering, full of an unrestrained want. “I’m yours.” A sweet moan tore past your lips.

A wave of possessiveness swelled up inside of him, coupled with that innate desire to keep you all to himself. Dwayne didn’t have an issue sharing with his brothers, but you? No — you belonged to him, and him alone. A growl rippled across his broad chest as he tore his lips away, returning to your sternum.

There was a prowess to him that the others didn’t possess — Dwayne was emotionally intelligent, just as vicious in the same breath. He was an enigma of so many things, drawing you in with his arcadian charm. Your fingers reached for his dark tresses, perusing through as he kissed your chest.

“You’re beautiful,” Dwayne’s affectionate baritone rumbled across your flesh as he continued his slow, deliberate string of kisses, making his way to your breasts. He trapped one nipple between his lips, gently suckling on the sensitive mound, the other hand tugging at your shorts. “Perfect.” He uttered.

You sighed, fingers tangling within his mane of black tresses, pulling and carding through. It felt silky between your digits, like velvet. Those veined, calloused hands gripped along the meat of your hips, strong and unwavering as he lifted you to discard your shorts.

Arousal pooled between your legs, honey-thick as it toyed with Dwayne’s senses. He wanted nothing more than to drown himself between your thighs, devour you until you were a trembling, mewling mess. Your thoughts shamelessly echoed that sentiment, prompting him to reach toward the apex of your thighs, hand breaking past the waistline of your panties.

Dexterous fingers languidly slipped along your slick cunt, making a line right for your clit. Your body responded in a near-violent fashion, hips jolting up into him, hands curling within his hair. “D—Dwayne!” You whimpered, chasing after the friction his hand provided. Those dark hues hadn’t left you, transfixed on your smitten countenance as he kissed your stomach.

He looked big when his body was spread over yours, but when he began to slink toward your thighs, he was hulking, a massive wall of muscle. Dwayne’s kisses continued, littered all across your pelvis and thighs, fingers still winding you up as he pushed in between your legs with those broad, bronze shoulders.

His visage was rugged with a fine layer of dark stubble, tangible as it scratched against your inner thighs. He curled his hands into your panties, and instead of removing them, Dwayne simply tore them asunder, leaving remnants of fabric behind. The alcove reverberated with the sounds of material being ripped apart.

A thin sheen of arousal painted your cunt, scent stinging his nose in the most pleasant way possible. The velveteen flesh of your inner thighs were layered in faint bite marks — his own, from the past. He looked to you for approval, thumb lazily circling around your clit.

“Please.” You huffed, head bobbing up and down in an idle nod as he moved his lips toward a patch of flesh, unmarred by any bites. Dwayne was always very sensual, and even when he fed from you, it felt so lascivious. Your body jolted, hips writhing closer as he began to bite down.

Dark, earthy-brown hues melted away into pools of a golden-red, unnaturally vibrant. The initial sting of his bite made you wince, but he was always gentle with you when it came to feeding. As sharp teeth drew blood, a low growl reverberated throughout his chest, causing you to shiver. Your fingers continued to trace through his mane of black hair, a myriad of moans escaping you.

Restraining himself from taking this further, he had his fill, kissing over your now-healing bite. Dwayne licked his lips, effortlessly tossing both of your legs over his broad shoulders as he tugged you closer. You were somewhat folded at the hips, but you didn’t care.

Dwayne’s gaze was incendiary, intense — he stared you down from his perch between your thighs. You were visibly flustered, staring right back, nearly shrinking away altogether. He kissed your thighs, mouth dangerously close to your aching cunt. “You ready, girl?” He asked, inhaling another gust of your scent.

You nodded, feeling every fiber of your being scream with desire, and you wanted him terribly. “Yes,” You whimpered, hands having splayed out at your sides instead, no longer buried within his hair. “Dwayne, please,” His deliberation made it worse. “I want you so bad.” Your hips wriggled again, desperate for his mouth.

A warm, hearty chuckle emerged from his lips, making his herculean form shake between your legs. “Just relax,” He soothed, noticing how coiled and poised you were. Those strong, veined hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you spread apart. The flat of his tongue lapped across your slit in one long stroke. “Relax, Mama.” His voice made your head swim.

Relaxation wasn’t exactly your forte — you were too wound-up, too drunk with desire to simply sit still and melt into the mattress. Dwayne’s tongue began to lap you up, greedily consuming every drop of your sweet arousal, working along your cunt. His fingers clamped hard, enough to leave behind the inklings of bruises, etched into your flesh like his personal brand.

Your thighs threatened to squeeze at his head, but he kept your legs firmly planted on his shoulders, pinning you down and rendering you immobile. Your taste saturated his tongue, and he only chased after it, dutifully lapping at your slit as his nose absentmindedly grazed against your clit.

Dwayne was relatively silent — and you didn’t mind in the slightest. The only ambiance happened to be The Cars, your delighted moans, and your boyfriend’s deep, rumbling grunts. His tongue worked wonders on your aching slit, cunt clenching pathetically around nothing as he lapped you up, gaze flickering towards you.

Your countenance was a vision of beauty, all contorted into an expression of complete and utter bliss. Your hips writhed, with very little room to go considering that Dwayne had you locked down, arms bracketed on your thighs, keeping you caged in against him.

A heavy fire burned bright within the pit of your stomach, demanding to be extinguished. Throaty, noisy moans escaped you in droves, vocalizing your delight as Dwayne vigorously lapped at your cunt. He alternated patterns, between soft and exploratory and recklessly needy. His mouth occasionally brushed over your clit, causing you to shiver.

Each time he ate you out, it was almost like the first time all over again — blissful, filled with a lust-infused passion that threatened to swallow you whole. Dwayne was beyond attentive, savoring you as if you were the most delicious meal he’d ever had.

He lowered himself toward the mattress, musculature flat and poised between your thighs. Those strong, thick arms kept you held in-place, keeping you locked in as he continued to lap at your core. His hips rocked forward, harshly grinding against the bed to relieve some of the friction.

Much to your surprise, Dwayne got off on pleasuring you above all else. There was something intimately carnal about it, knowing that you only made those sounds for him, only let him touch you. Your hips jolted forward, met with a barrage of an eager tongue and mouth as he lapped at your cunt.

Dwayne grunted, lips opting to purse around your clit, instead. Your reaction was visceral, moans ascending to an excitable crescendo as your hands flew toward his hair. He grunted again, attempting to vocalize his own satisfaction of you pulling and tugging on his dark tresses as if they were reins.

A burnished-gold coloration had swallowed brown irises whole, flickering down towards your blissed-out visage. Your body had a mind of its own, twitching and writhing as his mouth relentlessly assaulted your aching cunt. Pleasure licked acros your frame, burning along your sensitive nerves. He was vigorous and attentive, throat itching with a dull, familiar ache.

Hunger could wait — Dwayne merely placed that feeling into the recesses of his mind. His tongue continued to cascade across your slit, lapping at your arousal before he returned his attention to your clit, suckling on that bundle of nerves. He steered you towards your orgasm, mind swimming with a thick haze of lust, overwhelmed by your heady scent.

“Dwayne!” Your voice carried above the nest, echoing throughout your cavernous surroundings. Fortunately, you were alone — you had little desire to mask how you felt about him. Needy digits gripped at his tresses again, hips bucking into his mouth until you were simply a pile of mush, unable to respond.

You were lost to the white-hot heat of your release, an explosive sensation that caused you to quiver and spasm in delight. A glittering perspiration danced across your hot flesh, sparkling from the glow of the candlelight. “Dwayne,” You huffed, a whimper emerging from the back of your throat as he dutifully cleaned you up.

He released your hips from his ironclad hold, crawling along your body until his broad frame nestled between your thighs. That taut, muscled hand rest against the base of your throat, digits gingerly squeezing on either side of your windpipe. You initiate a rather tantalizing kiss, able to taste yourself upon his tongue.

A clattering sound resonates in your vicinity, Dwayne wrestling his belt off of his hips as his jeans sag upon his frame. He’s swift, wrangling his pants aside with one hand, the other clutching onto your pretty throat like a vice, evoking a string of sinful noises from your mouth. You kiss him with a desperation that he matches tenfold.

His hips brush against yours, and the distance is nonexistent, closed by your stoic paramour, whose normally-cold gaze reflects with a semblance of warmth. Your hands clamor for his broad shoulders, sinking into the expanse of bronze skin, nails clamping down when he drags the head of his cock against your cunt.

“Speak up, sweet girl.” Dwayne grunts, lips ghosting above the shell of your ear. He thoroughly enjoyed your begging on occasion, with this happening to be one of those occurrences. His lips briefly press against the side of your face, stubble grazing across your silken complexion.

With an agonizing pace, he continued to toy with you, pushing his cock against your entrance, but declining to go any further. A pained whine escaped you as you tilted yourself closer. The hand around your throat squeezes, effectively commanding your attention.

“Please,” You sputter, squirming in delight whenever those veined digits tense around the slender expanse of your jugular. “Dwayne, please,” Your simpering pleas are met with a hiss as he sluggishly sinks into you, inch by inch. He lets out another shallow rumble when your fingers brazenly dig into his shoulder. “Please move!”

Cold-blooded and dangerous — but not to you, not now. The icy temperature of his flesh swallows the warmth wafting from you as he invades your space, musculature eclipsing any light. His shadow falls across you, visage awash with his own carnal delight. You’re tight around him, aided by your arousal.

Another satisfactory snarl rips forth from his mouth, echoing next to your ear. You wrap your legs around his broad hips, gasping when he began to move. His cock hit new depths, pulling halfway out before Dwayne pushed himself back in again. His pace was rhythmic and passionate — not sloppy or too rough.

The pad of his thumb draws circles along the curve of your jawline, the rest of his hand tight around your windpipe. You moan, legs locked like a vice as he continues to roll his hips forward, cock battering its way into your cunt with a domineering force. Dwayne was taking it easy on you — if he lost control, it wouldn’t be very pretty for either of you.

His lips find yours, kissing you fervently as you reciprocate in a flurry of passion. Heat bled from you, arousal seeping from your core as Dwayne continued to rut into you, one hand splayed beside your head. The sparkling sheen of his ring glints in the lower light, mouth relentlessly assaulting yours in a barrage of kisses.

Dwayne grunts into your mouth, but the entanglement is shortlived as he moves to cover parts of your neck in kisses — whatever parts aren’t covered by his hand. You feel the sudden scrape of razor-sharp fangs drifting over your flesh, testing your resolve. You shudder, eyes fluttering shut as you grip and pull on his hair.

Sometimes you simply forgot that he was a specter of the night, a fanged creature who had the capability to rip you apart at any moment. His fangs continue to hover across your neck before they retracted, lips replacing them as he kissed your pulse point. There was an added element of thrill and exhilaration as you whimpered, his name spilling from your mouth over and over again.

You nearly see stars when he pistons himself into you again, slow and savoring you, enjoying the sluggishness of it all as Dwayne continues to drag out his thrusts. Your cunt clenches pathetically around his length, prompting you to whimper and moan, goosebumps coalescing along your spine.

“More,” It was incoherent, a string of needy babbles that escaped you in droves. “Dwayne, please,” You whimpered, chewing at your lower lip. In the midst of his own pleasure, Dwayne’s calculating stare flickered toward you — it wasn’t a good idea. “Please, please fuck me.” You begged, hearing the growl that echoed deep from within his chest.

“You sure?” Dwayne didn’t want to hurt you, but he was inclined to obey your needy command. Another grunt escaped him as he steadily rutted away into your tight cunt, deliberating in the midst of it all. “Won’t be gentle.” His stark warning was concrete, you knew this — you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you nodded several times over, digits gently curling around his wrist. “Yeah.” You panted, chest fluttering with a tight sensation as he gave you a hasty, passionate kiss, a parting gift as he squeezed at your jugular. That steady rhythm began to pick up instantaneously.

Dwayne made sure to watch you closely, gaze hawkishly trained upon your body as he began to fuck you. The intensity and the heat rose like a tidal wave, consuming the both of you as he pounded away at your poor cunt. Your legs rattled like leaves, attempting to stay locked around his waist.

The taut muscles of his shoulders and abdomen worked in-tandem, body effortlessly exerting strength. For him, it was nothing — for you, it was a different experience entirely. He was rough, manhandling you with one hand as he grabbed at your hips, enough to leave behind faint impressions in the form of bruises.

Moving in Stereo still swallowed any background noise, encompassing the whole of Dwayne’s nest. You were a complete and utter mess, devolving into a puddle of sweet moans and needy whimpers, especially whenever he applied pressure around your throat. He squeezed whenever he thrust into you, force akin to that of a barely-restrained battering ram.

Even in his self-proclaimed roughness, Dwayne was still executing some measure of restraint. “Mine,” His thunderous voice swarmed you from all sides as he fucked you into submission, gritting pearlescent teeth together as he approached his climax. You kept nodding, back arching into his touch.

“Dwayne,” Dwayne — it feels like the only word you’re capable of saying, rolling from your tongue with a wanton moan. You tug on his tresses with an urgency, feeling his hips grind against yours, flesh kissing flesh with unyielding thrusts. His cock continues to bury itself deep inside of your needy slit until it can go no further. “S—Shit! Right there!” You cry.

He huffs, musculature flat against you, chest to chest as you coax him in for another kiss. You whimper into his mouth when his tongue tangles with yours like a heat-seeking missile, teeth breaking the thin skin of your lower lip. Pearls of crimson trickle onto his tongue, fusing lust with hunger — all for you.

Dwayne didn’t stop, showing no signs of stopping as he fucked the both of you through an orgasm, painting your cunt in hot ropes of seed. He doesn’t pull out, a sensation that the two of you feed off of. If it weren’t for his vampirism, you’d be round with his children — the fantasy would continue to linger on for as long as he pleased.

“Shit, Mama,” Dwayne’s strained baritone sends shivers throughout your body. He rarely talks during sex, and this felt like a treat as he continued to thrust into you, feeling your nails dig angry crescents into his shoulder. He groans, savoring the feeling of your constant tugging on his mane of dark tresses. “You’re perfect.” His voice tapered off into a possessive growl.

You want to scream, a raging fire surging throughout your body before it finally comes to an end, extinguished by Dwayne’s rough rutting. He could’ve kept it up, continued all night long with his cock stuffed inside of you, but humanity was both a blessing and a curse. Your thighs shook underneath his grasp, and he began to slow, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

His hand left behind a searing brand around your throat — whether or not the imprints are visible, it’s the sensation that refuses to leave. Your windpipe feels a little sore, but it’s a pleasant burn as he comes to a crawl, nestling his forehead against yours.

The excitement and blissful thrill of the moment steadily begins to fade, composure replacing a very heavy lust. Your heart thrums beneath your breast, beginning to crawl to a more uniform beat as you nudge forward, kissing Dwayne again. Your lips are swollen, split down the middle with a patch of dried cruor.

Dwayne’s exhale of relaxation comes after, and the tension within his body unfurls. He kept himself inside of you still, feeling your poor cunt clench around his cock when he adjusted his position. His kiss is astoundingly tender this time around, able to taste the pang of copper upon your lip, accompanied by your natural sweetness.

A sense of euphoria overwhelms you, body feeling wonderfully heavy as Dwayne peppered kisses all along your jaw and collarbone. “You alright?” He murmured, making sure that he hadn’t pushed the limit with you. It was easy to become lost in the moment, forget about your humanity.

You nodded, wincing slightly when he pulled out of you, resting his head against your stomach, arms encircling themselves around you. “Better than alright,” You mused, tracing your fingers throughout his hair. “You think Paul will mind that we borrowed his stereo?” Laughter burst forth from your mouth.

A bemused huff escaped Dwayne as he reached over with one muscled arm, hitting the ‘NEXT’ track on the boombox. He pulled you close, nose wrinkling in disdain as Drive by The Cars came on — it wasn’t exactly his taste in music.

“Like you said,” He rumbled, peering up at you with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. His arms effortlessly tugged you down to his level, lips twitching into a faint smirk, rare for Dwayne yet mesmerizing all the same. His mouth brushed above yours. “Joint custody.”

[iuspired]

confessions - suna rintarou

about: DEFINITELY ooc but we don’t talk about that 😙 just you nd ur bsf sunarin catching up as per usual with tea to spill from the past 😝 we love to see it!

a/n: i wrote this awhile ago actually🫣 im fully done w finals………. idk what to think im so scared for the future. also trying diff formats and will actually work on my navi post during the summer so bare w me lol. anyways thank u for all the love on my last post mwahhh <3

“you know i used to have a crush on you?” you say, in between bites of your food.

you and your childhood best friend, suna rintarou, are at your promised monthly hangout, which ended up only being every couple months because your universities were far away from each other, so you both settled to meet up whenever your breaks overlapped. but it didn’t matter to you either way because you texted each other almost every other day. whether it was a tiktok link or an 8 ball.

“you used to what?” he replies, mouth agape as he sets his chopsticks down.

“i mean, it wasn’t a huge crush,” you say, … “maybe i was gaslighting myself but we were really close back then y’know?”

“oh? why didn’t you ask me out then?”

“mmm not sure. i guess..” you think about it. it was probably because starting high school, girls were all over him. it was also probably because those same girls would come up to you. passive aggressively ask if you were his girlfriend. you’d reply with a lighthearted laugh, “noo! we’re just close friends. he’s all yours if you want him.” maybe it was because he wouldn’t reciprocate any of the interest and love he received. he always replied, saying something along the lines of ‘oh i’m focusing on school” or just a simple, “i’m not interested”

it was mostly though, because you thought he’d reject you if you initiated something. and not wanting to ruin the relationship you had already built throughout the years, you suppress your feelings.

“you guess?”

“fear of rejection?” you laugh nervously.

“you think i would’ve rejected you?” he asks. he tilts his head, raising his eyebrows, giving you a look as if you were supposed to know.

“you had no interest for anyone so… i mean. i-” you stammer. fuck, why did i even bring this up?!

“well, believe it or not, i too, had a crush on my bestfriend.”

and just like that, you almost spit out your drink. “sorry, you- you liked me?”

“and that’s so surprising because?” he questions.

he really cannot wrap his head around this, huh. “you turned everyone and their mother down? mr. i’m too focused on school and i’m not interested? i could only assume that i was not wanted.”

“but did i ever directly say that to you?”

“no, but you wouldn’t need to. i listened when you rejected their advances, i can take a hint y’know.”

he sighed. “if you had asked me out back then, my answer would be different.”

“really?” you ask.

“really.”

you raise your eyebrows as you sip your drink.

“don’t believe me? you can try me now.” he smirks, flashing the smile you had fallen for back then, and you almost fold right then and there. though despite his confident demeanor, the slight rosy tint on his cheeks gives his nervousness away.

“oh? it’s almost as if you want me to ask you out.”

he playfully rolls his eyes. “okay, so maybe i do, but only if you want to..”

you do your best to suppress a smile as your cheeks turn into the same rosy color.

“here goes. ahem.. i uh-” your mind goes blank.

“wait so.. how do you ask someone out?”

“well, i’ve never asked someone out before because they always ask me” he winks.

you playfully roll your eyes.

“don’t overthink it. it’s just me right?”

you almost forgot. it’s just rin. the same rin who’s always there for you. but this is different.

“right.. i say this in almost all your birthday cards but you’re truly my rock in life, and i reaally want to be yours, and maybe more so.. may i be your girlfriend, suna rintarou?”

“well, if you insist i guess,” he shrugs.

“wooooww.. i see how it is” you say, crossing your arms teasingly.

“r-rin..” he catches you off-guard as he takes your hand in his.

“yeess?” he grins.

you remove your hands, immediately missing the warmth from his hands.

“first date jitters?” he chuckles.

“this is our first date?”

“technically, i guess, but-“

“no way this is our official first date. i’m wearing sweats!” you exclaim, looking down at what you’re wearing.

“i don’t see an issue, you always look pretty in anything you wear.”

“th- thanks,” you blurt out. well that’s new.

but it’s something you could deeefinitely get used to.

[mollyjames]

Okay actually, Dandy and I were talking and they do have a kind of insane compromise to the Universes Beyond problem. It's far too late and would never be implemented (and doesn't have quite the same punch in the shareholders meeting), but WotC does have tech for this, built into Magic from its inception:

Their proposal is a roster of different card games using the base Magic ruleset, under the Deckmaster banner.

This would accomplish a few things:

1. It would keep the games separate, which at the end of the day is what I think most of us want. Instead of Magic being all things to all players, it can continue to foster the strong community it has grown over the years, while allowing the UB cards to "start from scratch", without literally decades of power and complexity creep to contend with.

2. Onboarding gets easier. Now new players only have to worry about a limited pool of Marvel cards, or Final Fantasy cards. And since all these games use the same base ruleset, they can swap at any time. And when they're ready, they can dive into the deep end with Magic and its 30+ year history worth of cards.

3. It allows you to focus on each game's unique mechanical identity. You get to pull levers and make decisions you'd normally never get to under the Magic ruleset. Mess around a bit. Marvel doesn't have "Sorceries", it has "Actions". Instead of "Creatures" you have "Heroes" and "Villains". Idk, you get the picture.

4. The games can still be compatible. Now instead of mandatory UB cards featuring in your competitive formats, you get to have a fun casual "super format", where everyone plays what they want. You want new players to be commander players? Well, now you have super commander. It's not perfect (and probably mutually exclusive with point 3), but people enjoy mashing things together so long as they're the ones doing it and it's just for fun.

Obviously this is too little too late, and I'm sure there are plenty of issues with this proposal. But I do wonder if something like this was ever discussed internally.

[centrally-unplanned]

Fuck seed oil discourse, fuck globalism conspiracy great replacement bullshit, the internet of today sucks. We have to go back, back to the way things were. When men, real men - who may have been catgirls to be clear since you never saw their faces - would tell you what The System refused to say: that your understanding of a battle from 2000+ years ago that you got from Westpoint textbook formation diagrams as bastardized by some other YouTube channel is an inaccurate portrayal of the event based on the 500 hours they spent building a brick-by-brick simulation of the battle in the Unreal engine. Enviously-autistic levels of devotion to a topic that is never, ever going to be politically or personally relevant a day of your life.

This is what the internet is for.

Anyway I only just started watching, but I can tell I am gonna be a fighter with dear Invicta up here. My bet is that 50% of this video's point is going to be the perfectly correct statement that the 1970's model of the battle that people have in their minds is wrong. Back when academics read Livy, read Polybius, and were like "yep, these two authors who are honestly contradicting themselves 20% of the time sound legit, let's take em at their word". Which is a valid point to make, obviously, I just bet the branding of the video will run a bit of aground of the need to cite the dozens of more modern academics who already know this. You have "you are wrong about Cannae" articles dating back to the 90's, and that is just one I knew off the top of my head - I have no doubt there are earlier ones. Cannae's sources are spotty, and our understanding of it will always be vague and debated.

The other 50% is going to be what I would call "model devotion" - essentially taking the conclusions of the model as a sort of gospel. But the model is, of course, built from the same vague guesswork as the spotty sources, and is a process of embedding assumptions. Right in the opening he declares that "once you realize how big the battle is, the idea of an organized retreat over a distance of a kilometer is impossible to consider" idk man I can consider it! Have you looked at military history? People do crazy shit, particularly when they are prepared to do it. If Nasir could lead men 600 miles across the desert to attack Aqaba by land, I think these guys can fight for a few kilometers. Doesn't mean they did, but in particular if it was so crazy contemporary sources probably would have pointed it out themselves (Polybius, not Livy - Livy sucks). People tend to over-assume the ignorance of the past - Cannae was a momentous event. Romans wanted to understand it, and we should extend at least some credit to them on that front.

But again, I have only watched a little bit of it - overall it looks great, really! He clearly did a ton of research and work, anyone who is building custom maps of the Aufidus River's historical floodplain to estimate various battle site locations deserves all the credit in the world. I will watch the whole thing, maybe he will convince me!

[pinkteethmarks]

PLEASE PLEASEEE could you do like unreciprocated love w touya i’d be so grateful 🙁🙁 maybs based off of the song chest pain by malcolm todd or promise by laufey either oneee! n i have no idea what format it could be so whatever you think fits best :)

this is actually my first time writing proper angst sooo IDK. i chose promise bc i know that song better which made it easier to write to. i think this was ok? I REALLY DONT KNOW but yeah. anyways, it’s post war period, rehabilitated touya au, mentions of death, reader is a little mean to touya but one could argue it’s justifiable (depends on perspective, idk im just the author yall). did a normal one shot format cus i can only do 10 images on mobile and i knew i wanted this to be a lot longer (it’s only 1.6k words but still). touya living with shoto canon cus i said so. use of the name dabi but only for metaphorical comparisons. gender neutral reader. hints to musician dabi (like one line). uhhh yeah i think that’s all, HOPE U LIKE

promise; touya todoroki

dabi was never a romantic.

the bubbling burnt feeling of hatred consumed him wholly and swallowed any other emotion - he was a vessel for hatred, for not only did he carry his own, but also his family’s who couldn’t express their own feelings toward endevour.

yet, touya found out he was.

after the war and a long rehabilitation process, he had realised there are other things to life, hatred was not the only emotion in sight, it was not the only emotion he deserved.

so when touya found out that he had feelings for you, the only friend he had ever made by himself after the war that didn’t have any villainous intent, he had been terrified.

he couldn’t explain it at first, why his heart would leap when speaking to you, or why he tried to hard to impress you when you both went to the gym, or even why he had made a song about you and all the lyrics sounded oddly romantic.

then, when even his socially inept brother could tell that he had some form of feelings for you, it finally clicked.

so then, he made a promise, to distance himself until these childish feelings resolved themselves.

touya didn’t deserve to love or be loved, not after all the destruction he caused or all the suffering he made others feel - even his own family.

for 16 days, he avoided you like the plague. airing your calls and texts, avoiding you at work (which was damn near impossible) and when he did have to talk to you, he kept it short and sweet, even then, his palms got sweaty and his smile would grow double its size when you were around.

but, at some point, he broke his promise.

he didn’t exactly understand why he did, he just saw someone that looked like you when he was walking home from work and decided that enough was enough.

shoto had hyped him up, telling him that this was going to be fine, you had to have want him as well after everything, or at least you would give him a chance.

touya’s confidence was built, he knew what he was going to do, he was going to ask you out.

on call though, he was still a shy little boy on the inside of it all.

leading for him and shoto to be sat on the kitchen island seats across from one another, calling your number while putting you on speaker.

“touya! oh my goodness, here i thought you were going to end our friendship! what’s going on, why have you been ignoring me?” your sweet voice rang through, it felt like he could see your small cute pout as you said that, hand on hip attempting to look serious.

“i would never, i’m sad you would think that.” touya chuckled.

“yeah well, ignoring me for 16 days is really something, you know?!” you laughed.

“my deepest apologies, you can burn me at the stake if you truly want to.” touya responded smugly.

“i would but that seems like it would turn you on.” you scoffed, he laughed in response.

“alright then, but you won’t get to know why i called you.” touya sighed playfully.

“do tell oh great touya takamani!” you said with faux respect.

that was the last name he told you, the one the government gave to him. they allowed him to keep his first name since not many people remembered him at touya anyways, as well as to allow him to keep at least some part of his identity.

“listen, you’re like really stupid sometimes, and it gets me angry sometimes. you talk way too much and you love spoiling movies for me.” touya stated.

shoto looked at him confusingly, touya flinched as he realised he was just insulting you and you were remaining silent.

“wait- i- ugh, i didn’t meant it like that. i had this whole other part to it but…” touya stammered.

“it’s ok, i know you didn’t mean it. you’re terrible at talking about your feelings but, i’ll be patient with you, i always will be.” you said calmly.

shoto looked at touya shockingly, he had met you once or twice and understood… the physical attraction to it. but hearing you talk to his brother in such a fashion made him realise where touya’s love for you come from.

touya’s own heart fluttered tremendously at that, you were always paitent with him. even now when he has ignored you for over two weeks and you never shouted or screamed, you just, waited.

“i just mean that, those traits are things i don’t even hate. i love them, and you, i love it all.” touya blurted out, his legs bouncing with anticipation while shoto gave a thumbs up.

“aw, you’re so sweet! i love you too, touya!” you responded.

“no, i mean it as though, i love you… romantically. i want to go on dates with you and take you to your favourite places and think of a future with you. in fact, i don’t even care what we do, i just want to be near you while we do those things. i.. don’t exactly understand how these things go, ive never been in a relationship or have seen a successful one other than my brother’s friends but even then i don’t really see them. i’m willing to try, as long as im yours, im willing to do anything you want me to.” touya had explained, his gruff voice softening out as he spoke.

as he spoke, it felt like you could see the starts twinkle in his eye, the ones that only show themselves when he looks at you with that look. full of love and hope, with his heart raw and beating on his sleeve. yeah, you could imagine it vividly.

and you hated it.

you hated how you can see him gazing in his house dreaming of a future with you, or how you can imagine his blushing while thinking of you, or those moments in work where his eyes are stuck on his figure and you pretend to not acknowledge it.

because you did not want him to think of you that way, you never desired to be his and you never held out hope of you two being together past friendship.

and you didn’t care if that hurt him.

“touya, i hope you’re not serious.” you laughed pitifully.

shoto and touya froze.

“i-i am?” touya responded slowly, as though he knew what was coming. he was in the danger zone and the alarm bells with ringing violently as he pretended that they were just precautionary measures.

“i know that you’re dabi.” was all you said in response.

touya’s eyes widened, his breathing quickened and his hand ran through his white messy hair.

“you do? damn i was-“

“don’t play this off as a joke. listen, i didn’t care that much when i first learned a couple months ago. i valued our friendship despite your past, but expecting a relationship between us is downright delusional. even if i were to give you a chance, it would never last. that war you started because of your own daddy issues caused a lot of my families death and financial issues, i can respect the change in behaviour and i don’t mind keeping you as a friend but i could never love a villain.” the sting of your venomous words seeped into touya’s bloodstream and stopped the rhythmic beat of his heart.

he felt dizzy and lost, he heard you speak again but it became a blur as his vision started to blur from the sting of tears the bullied its way out of his eyes.

touya was angry, sad, heartbroken and anything else under the sun. worst of all? he couldn’t even blame you. you were well within your right to reject him for that reason and he hated that.

the familiar bubbling started to boil in his gut again, his default emotion to any bad situation that was all consuming and ever so comforting in its perverse ways.

it was like a hug from his father, Lord knows that he never received that when he was younger much but the one time he did, the one time affection was shown to him, it felt like this. touya felt like everything he ever despised, all the darkness within his enveloped him within its grasp.

it was reliable, trustworthy and never lied him.

love wasn’t, it was sickening and tight on the heart. it was faulty and pretended to be there for you in times of need, but, like everything in life, was just a trick that got him vulnerable enough to make him tick.

touya finally locked back into reality, realising now that shoto and you were arguing. he has never seen his stoic brother that angry, but he didn’t know why. why would he defend the very villain that ruined his childhood? dabi was the very thing he seeked to destroy and it’s not like dabi and touya were that seperate.

touya was just dabi with a false sense of security.

“it’s fine, honestly. sorry for bothering you y/n, hang up sho’” touya suddenly spoke.

shoto hung up the phone quickly, placing it down as he looked at his brothers eyes. once full of life, stars and love looking exactly like it did eight years ago.

“are you-“

“i’m fine.” no he wasn’t, of course touya wasn’t, but what more could he do.

he shouldn’t have broken his promise, he should’ve stayed away and listened to dabi - the anti romantic voice in his head telling him to stay away.

because now touya realised now more than ever, that while it hurts be something, it was worse to be nothing with you.

[definitelynotshouting]

Idk if this is Hunger AU canon or my own personal fanon but

one of the "calling cards" that the Watchers used in Evo was bedrock

bedrock is unbreakable by a player

perfect for trapping the player you're using as a Watcher incubator

and the texture looks rough af

when you get desperate you often try to do stuff to escape even if it's impossible, right

so what I'm saying is

probably one of the last things player!Grian did was tearing his hands to shreds trying to break bedrock out of sheer desperation

which makes all the passages in your fic where he's staring at his hands even more *gestures vaguely*

(idk why I typed this out in this format but it felt right so I'm going with it)

MAN OKAY THIS IS SUPER COOL i especially adore how youve connected it with the way i keep having Grian stare at his own hands???? which ftr is smth ive only just now realized i do all the time AKDBWKDJKSSJ this is JUST like the scarian jaw kisses thing HELPPPP 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 but thats such a cool thought!!! And utterly angsty i love it >:]

Its also made me realize i dont think ive ever actually told yall what did happen during that interim where Grian was captive as a Player before he died and became a Watcher, so buckle in i guess as i try to explain this one to yall (obligatory cws for captivity, parasitism, violated autonomy, body horror, and major character death discussion)

Yknow the world borders the life series has?? It was like that, but tiny. Maybe a couple chunks' worth of space to move around in. He spawned into a savannah biome and the Watchers specifically in charge of keeping an eye on him (pun intended) penned him in with the borders, implanted the specially-coded larva, and then retreated back just outside the server's barrier code to, well. To Watch.

So post Evo dragon fight the Watchers convinced Grian to join them without telling him what that entailed. They then proceeded to whisk him away to the server cluster's dev crystal, which is where the remnants of this Watcher colony made their semi-permanent home. There, held together basically only by the Watchers' ability to manipulate code, they had Grian make a brand new server.... and immediately trapped him in it.

He spent a year there slowly dying, eaten from the inside out by a parasite that was collecting his memories, copying over his stats and personality, with very limited space and resources to get by with. I know he built a tiny house out of acacia, but it never got any bigger than a starter base. He lived off of mostly bread and the meat from a few animals that spawned in with him; he primarily used stone tools, because those were what was most readily available. It was a very terrifying and lonely year, where all access to the outside world was cut off, and he was meticulously watched over to keep from dying while the larva inside him continued to grow and destroy him.

The Watchers were mostly hands-off in terms of interaction, but they did do regular check-ins to ensure the larva was alive and that there was no danger present to its host. Hostile mobs were carefully warded off, and Grian spent most of his time alternating between begging them to let him go (they never responded), trying to figure out ways to escape (it never worked), and tending to baseless chores just to keep from going out of his mind as his body grew weaker and weaker and more unstable around him.

I have a lot of feelings about this tbh, bc its just such a bleak scenario to think about-- trapped in a tiny cage with something killing you from the inside out, and your captors wont even talk to you about it properly. Being left otherwise to your own devices, with the terrible, lingering knowledge that, even if it was under duress, you still agreed to this. The fact that, after a certain point, after your questions and pleas are summarily ignored and brushed aside, you finally realize: you aren't meant to survive this. You are going to die.

A juvenile Watcher's first meal are the emotions during their host's last few moments. Grian was no exception; he cracked his way out of his own ribcage, and, without meaning to, amplified and feasted on Player!Grian's agony and terror as he died. With their memory codes finally disconnected, Grian had to watch himself through the eyes of a stranger as his terrified consciousness dissolved and his body fell apart into nothing more than loose strings of code.

Only then, still weak and flailing and helpless, was he was brought into the colony proper, in order to teach him how to be a Watcher. It wouldnt be for another few years before Grian gained the strength, control, and insight required to make his desperate escape. In total, i wanna say he spent somewhere between.... 4-6 years??? with the colony against his will. It would take another 4 for him to finally scrape together the courage to contact Mumbo and finally ask him for an invite into the Hermitcraft proper

One of these days i do plan to write that reunion, actually, which i'll add to the series as another prequel just like all the words that i forgot to say, which takes place roughly 6-8 months after Grian finally joins Hermitcraft. And if yall want to read an absolutely fantastic fic that deals with the moment Watcher!Grian was born and Player!Grian died, you should absolutely check out my friend @raichett 's fic Divergency, which ive pretty much canonized bc it REALLY hits the nail on the head for that situation.

Okay this got a lot longer than i meant it to sidhskdjej also those timeframes are a little squiggly bc i havent fully settled on where they fall on the general timeline. I wanna say Grian had been a Watcher for abt a decade by the time Mumbo got him onto Hermitcraft, though, so thats the loose timeline im working off of when i talk abt this :] anyway thanks for giving me an excuse to write this all out!!! while your idea about the bedrock isnt necessarily canon, i absolutely ADORE it and can totally see Grian just tearing up his hands while scrabbling against the world border.... utterly heartbreaking we fucking LOVE to see it. Thanks for sending in your ask!!! I always love seeing what you have to say about hunger au!!! :DDD

[pitviperofdoom]

Hello pit! I've been thinking about getting into tma lately, however I'm unsure how to go about it? I'm kind of a wimp when it comes to horror, and I don't have a lot of time on my hands (cuz med school). I also know that someone has uploaded all the seasons without the statements and just has the parts related to the main story, which would be faster and would cut out a lot of the horror stuff, but I also feel that listening to that would be,,, idk disingenuous? Disrespectful? To all the work rusty quill put in for the full thing and how they wanted to present it

I mean it's less that it would be disingenuous or disrespectful and more that if you don't listen to the statements you might not know what's going on.

Disclaimer, I haven't listened to the cut you mentioned so I don't know exactly how much they leave out, but-

The reason why TMA works so well within its medium and format is that vital story and worldbuilding elements are introduced through the statements long before they appear in the diagetic action. The "main story" will bring in characters that have long been established and built up through appearing and being mentioned in the statements, and because of that their presence and importance don't need to be explained in the dialogue and action, so they aren't. And a lot of times the dialogue and action are in direct response to what was just narrated in the statement; this is especially true at the end of Season 2, when the information revealed in several statements directly prompts Jon's actions in the finale. Several episodes throughout the series are major characters giving live statements to explain their backstories and motivations and/or further the plot; Martin's statement in Colony is the main story. And that's not even getting into Season 5, when the line between statement and main story gets blurred even more.

As a fellow horror wimp I definitely sympathize. Lost Johns Cave, A Guest for Mister Spider, and Tucked in were some of the worst ones for me, and A Sturdy Lock was one of the only ones I had to skip ahead. Personally horror podcasts are a lot easier on me than horror movies, so the horror was manageable enough that it was worth gritting my teeth once in a while for the sake of a really good story. Plus, TMA explores a lot of different types and flavors of horror, so some episodes may not even hit your particular pressure points. I don't know your limits so really only you can decide that.

And as for time, I've never been to medical school (good on you!) so I can't really give solid advice, but the beauty of podcasts is that you don't really need to set aside time for it, you can listen to it in the car or on the train or while wandering around the grocery store. Again, you know your schedule better than me.

At the end of the day it's up to you. The main story bits of TMA are fun and exciting, and definitely not all of the statements are plot-vital. I guess, don't worry about being disingenuous or disrespectful--it doesn't make a lick of difference to Jonny Sims and Alex J. Newall how you choose to interact with their story. You get to have the experience you want with this; just know that there's no real clear-cut separation between statements and "main story"; TMA is a conversation between the two.

[wing-dingy]

Remember when I said I wasn't gonna post fanfics? I lied. I'm gonna post just this one as an excuse to have some Johnshi in my life but also because its rare I write a fic that isnt a self indulgent oc fic

This is just a lil fic where Kenshi comforts Johnny after a stunt on set leaves him with an injured ankle, mostly cute banter. Also sorry if the formatting looks weird, i dont normally post fics to tumblr so idk how to space my paragraphs like I do on google docs.

Click. Step. Click. Step.

The Hollywood actor carried himself on his crutches across the room, from the door to his living room couch, where he saw Kenshi waiting in anticipation.

“Honey, I'm home,” Johnny announced in a parody of those old movies, how he loved his dumb movie references.

“Doesn't sound like good news. Are those crutches?” Kenshi asked, judging by the sound and the patterns of the sound. Though he usually relied on Sento for sight, he hardly ever felt the need to in a casual setting, so it rested in the mantle above the fireplace.

“Yeup. Doc says I'll need ‘em for a few weeks, a month at most.”

Kenshi crossed his arms and leaned back on the couch. “Was that stunt still worth it?”

Johnny snorted, “Totally, the shot came out perfect! You may not know this, but I do all of my own stunts. Impresses everybody when I tell them that!” He dropped a small paper bag of his prescribed painkillers on the coffee table and sat next to Kenshi, wincing as he lifted his ankle to rest it on the same table.

“Aren't stuntmen used so the real actors don't get hurt?”

“I mean- yeah. But don't worry, they're just gonna film everything else until I come back, which should be in no time. I'm just built different.”

Kenshi could just hear the cocky smile, causing him to shake his head in disbelief, but he couldn't hold back the small bit of laughter at Johnny’s pride and confidence. “Alright, but it looks like it's my turn to take care of you again.”

“Don't sweat it, Ken doll, I can take care of myself. You've already helped me enough, and you've got yourself to look after,” He noted all too seriously. Obviously there still rested some guilt in his heart over Mileena's rabid attack that day.

“That ankle needs to rest. That movie needs you and you need the money from it.” Undeniable. Johnny was still getting back on his feet (not literally now) after a messy and expensive divorce, he needed whatever work he could get at the moment. “You just let me know when you need something.”

Johnny sighed as he looked down at his injured ankle. These next few weeks were going to be the most boring while of his life.

Kenshi seemed to know Johnny wasn't feeling so good by the sudden quietness, not even a silly request from his offer. When Johnny of all people was quiet, there was a problem. “Johnny? You alright?”

“Yeah… I've just never been good at sitting still and doing nothing, you know? Now I can't even use my own pool in my living room,” He complained, as if having a pool in the living room was a normal thing.

“Come on, Johnny, you still have a whole mansion. Unless your attention span really is that small, you're not gonna get bored,” Kenshi lovingly poked at him. “It’s not like you're alone either.”

Johnny noded with a small smile of comfort. “That's right, I've got you, my best friend, boyfriend, and assigned FBI agent,” Johnny joked. Gods, not again with the assigned FBI agent meme. “And hey, maybe we can invite Kung Lao and Raiden over to hang out. You think Liu Kang would wanna drop by?”

Kenshi gave an amused smirk. “Probably not, but Kung Lao, might.”

Johnny looked down at the table again, spotting a marker. He groaned and wheezed as he leaned over to grab it, trying not to move his ankle off the table as his finger tips barely touched the marker.

“Johnny what are you-” Before he could finish his question, he felt a marker tapping against his hand.

“You wanna be the first to sign my cast?” Johnny offered, trying to play it off cool but his excitement was slipping past in his voice.

“You mean Hollywood’s megastar wants my autograph?” Kenshi teased. He took the marker into his hand, and Johnny guided his hand down to his cast. Confidently, Kenshi began writing his name.

“Not bad writing for someone who can't really see,” Johnny complimented, meaning it obviously and trying to make it sound like that rather than a mockery.

“I still know the motions of writing, that's enough to get by.” Of course Johnny hadn't seen Kenshi's messier writing at his job and maybe it should stay that way.

The real surprise was the small heart he drew right below his own name. Kenshi wasn't so into PDA, nor into cutesy stuff like that, so it caught Johnny off guard to see the small display. It wasn't like people didn't know they were dating, Johnny was way too into showing off their love and too loud to keep that secret, but it was rather that Kenshi was a more subtle lover when it came to their relationship, preferring to keep things behind doors. Still, it was a nice surprise, and at least now it made the cast way better to look at! Of course Johnny was already pulling out his phone to snap a photo of it to post to his socials.

“You're posting your cast, aren't you?” Kenshi reasonably accused.

“Gotta let the fans know production might be on hold.”

“Is that it? Or are you bragging about us again?”

Johnny snickered, meaning Kenshi was right. “Okay, you got me, but how can I not show you off? You're the coolest! A blind swordsman? Dating Hollywood's biggest hit? We're like a power couple!”

If Kenshi still had his eyeballs, he'd be lovingly rolling them, but admittedly it was kind of cute seeing how enthusiastic Johnny was about their relationship- and kind of funny to think about considering they were previously rivals over Sento.

Kenshi leaned in to press a kiss to Johnny's cheek, and he could feel the wrinkles of a smile under his lips. “Looks like you're feeling better about that ankle.”

“As long as I have you by my side, this injury is gonna be a breeze!” Now it was Johnny's turn to lean in, this time leaning to rest his head on Kenshi with closed eyes and a content smile. Kenshi reciprocated by wrapping an arm around Johnny to hold him. “Shit, that medicine they gave me is starting to catch up.”

“You get sleepy off of a couple Tylenols,” Kenshi playfully quipped, making Johnny laugh.

“Just saying it's a good excuse to nap on you! Unless you're gonna tele-fling me to bed again.”

Kenshi shook his head. “Maybe when your ankle isn't as broken. Right here is fine, just keep your ankle up.”

“Sweet,” Johnny happily murmured as he felt himself starting to doze off. Damn, Tylenol really did knock him out.

[shewhowas39]

get to know June (my durge)

so i've been working on Juniper & Starlight for a couple months now and idk just thought it'd be fun to do a little write up on June, my dark urge.

***

Name: Juniper Acadia (tho she currently only remembers her first name)

Pronouns: she/her

Age: about 26

Race: i mean, technically Bhaalspawn, but she appears to be a half-elf.

Class: Wizard, School of Divination subclass (tho she does multiclass later, but that's a spoiler)

Alignment: neutral good

Highest Stat: intelligence (closely followed by wisdom)

Lowest Stat: strength (she's more dexterous)

Love Interest: Astarion

Best Friend: Shadowheart (and Scratch)

Height: 5'11" (181cm)

Body Type: June is built like a runner, so slim but not skinny, and with long legs that are more toned than the rest of her body.

Skin: very pale. about as pale as Astarion but with pink undertones.

Hair: Dark, ashy blond and VERY curly, falling to about her mid-back. her hair is thick and there's a lot of it, so it's probablyt he feature most people notice about her first.

Eyes: her eyes are large and round, but what stands out about them is that they are set quite far apart on her face and are an unusually dark, vivid blue.

Face Claim: a young Michelle Pfeiffer, but with rounder, darker blue eyes, somewhat paler skin, and MUCH curlier hair.

Other Notable Appearance Details: her black eyeliner/mascara is almost always running from where she's been crying. she also has Ilmater's holy symbol tattooed on the back of her neck, though she currently has no memory of when, why, or how she got this.

Favorite Color: deep, vibrant purple (like amethyst) as well as sort of a magenta-y pink.

Greatest Passion: history! she loves all knowledge. she's a smart cookie who is very curious about everything, but her passion is history.

Biggest Fear: her own inner darkness/bloodlust. she's terrified of the things she is capable of.

Some Random Facts:

the way her urges and her divination magic manifests causes June to feel like she sometimes experiences time out of order. the present often feels like a dream, making it hard to tell her hallucinations and prophetic visions from reality. it's not fun.

prior to the amnesia, June worked as a sort of tour guide in Baldur's Gate, showing the city's visitors the most notable historical sites. her favorite was the cemetery. (this is also how she found victims.)

her accent would be the same as a norhern Louisiana accent in the real world. it stands out among most people on the Sword Coast, but it's from a small, rural town where she was raised by her adoptive family.

her adoptive family were also half-elves, both of wood elven descent. she had two siblings, both also named after types of trees: Willow and Ash.

June has two core beliefs that drive her: first, never lie to a friend. even if it's dangerous, even if it hurts, once someone is her friend, she feels she owes them the truth. second, everyone deserves a chance at redemption....except for her. (and also probably Cazador.)

she cries a lot. to the point where it's kind of a joke. sometimes it's out of fear, sometimes out of empathy, and sometimes just becaus she's so freaking overhwelmed by the constnat shifts in time and place and her inability to graps onto reality. thus the running mascara at all times.

so that's June. she's currently being a sweet, bloodthirsty, nerdy hot mess in my longfic as well as in a few smutty oneshots you can find on my Ao3.

this isn't a tag, exactly, but if anyone else wants to hop on and use this format, i highly encourage it! i love reading about other people's durges and tavs.

[52stations]

i’ve never read any of jeremy’s writing but i’m curious about it, would you recommend starting anywhere in particular? :3

what a question!!! i would say start with what happens now, the main character is by all accounts a self insert and as such its very evocative of exactly how it feels to have an insane anxiety disorder - i found it horribly relatable lol.

as for his short stories i think they’re a bit hit and miss. there’s a couple i really hated at the time i read them but i haven’t actually read any of those collections since at least 2022. my favourite is the haunted book but there’s some stories i really loved in the cranes that built the cranes - memorably ‘michael’ and ‘isle of the wolf’ (another OCD work for the ages imo) especially. i read never trust a rabbit in a&e at about 4am and barely remember it so that one probably deserves a revisit 🙃

and umm i didn’t massively get on with the warlock effect because i’m not massively invested in magic or crime thrillers and i think the writing was noticeably worse 😞 idk if this was because he shared the writing duties with andy but it read clunkily to me - i do like ghost stories (the movie, not seen the play yet but i have tickets for this year!!) so maybe their dialogue works better in a spoken format? that said there were definitely parts i enjoyed and found interesting, it was just… not for me as a whole.

also as a warning jeremy is really not fantastic at writing female characters - you’ve gotta head in with that knowledge. i hadn’t even meaningfully engaged with feminism when i first read his stuff and i still had the sense something was off. like, come on man, you’ve got daughters…….. aren’t you interested in our interior lives at all……. perhaps we have more in common than you think 🥲🥲 the women in his books do pretty much exist in terms of what they mean to male characters LOL he’ll get there i’m sure 🫶

thanks for asking haha. that’s only scratching the surface of my thoughts i’m afraid

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

Some towl thoughts so far:

It's so good to see Rick actually being in love with Michonne. Like we knew they were in love, but we didn't really get to see just how deeply. At least on his end.

Rick dreams in a romcom format. His brain is a romcom. Idk why but that is the weirdest thing to learn about him. On the inside I am just a good ole lover boy. On the outside? A murderer.

So did Rick draw the lil pictures of Michonne and Judith? Before I thought it might've been Jadis but he hasn't been hanging out with her at all. His art style is fuckin cute. Idk why he draws Jude like that though. That's what she looks like now, but she was like 5 last time he saw her...

CRM rly makes everything our group ever did look like small potatoes... "We fought some bad guys and built a network of farming communities! We're rebuilding the whole world!" "We blew up the military and saved 200000 people. We have modern infrastructure and power. There's two more places just like us also." Like fuck dude ok.

Forbidden Rick backstory?? He was a farm kid? He saw his dad get burned alive? What? Rick the kinda guy to tell you all the details of his childhood vacation to Cornwall but fail to mention the time he killed God or something

New guy got sploded :(

Why did Michonne take Rick's helmet off?! Thank GOD she did?! She didn't take anybody else's off before killing them! Girl can you imagine?!

This episode was GOOD but it was a gigantic infodump. But it's ok all I wanted was sergeant sad eyes and boy howdy did we get him

[nerves-nebula]

So other than Leo's pupeteering, does anyone else get mystic powers?

Are they different naturally? Are they chosen? Do they have to do with personality or roles since Leo's puppeteering mirrors his control over the others? Are they going to be highlighted in future arcs? I'm really curious.

THEY DO GET POWERS, I'm just BAD AT coming up with them. they'll get their time, i promise.

each persons powers are unique, though the way their powers manifest changes based on life circumstances (like, if a persons core values change, if the way they see fighting or having powers change, if they become more or less mentally stable, that kind of stuff)

I'm still working on everyone's power sets but since it's been so long I'll just show you an excerpt from what I have written down rn. be warned tho it's kind of messy, it wasn't formatted for people other than me to read hah. the bold words are the temporary names for their powers.

Leo: Bonds (control)- puppeteering/minor possession (he can (sort of) posses/embody/control people) (works better on family members), ability to command people into action & buff their strength/skills (the buffs are stronger with consent and mostly apply to family members, but he can use them to trip up enemies for a second by attempting to possess them and disorienting them) his power manifests as either shackles/chains or ropes of silk, depending on his intentions. She can also use her puppets senses but thats mostly just a distraction at first and only comes into play later on when she gets better at working with her siblings.

Raph: Redirect (Deflection) -  Can deflect the power of an attack with his body/shields, and send the power behind it ricocheting away (can’t control the ricochet very well) his shields take the form of body doubles, everyone is constantly watching different versions of him being ripped apart. He can also make “armor” (idk how else to describe it) for his weapons which makes them stronger.

Mikey: Fury (destruction) - basically fire bending with mystic fire + the ability to summon fire creatures to help him. Powers fluctuate based on the strength of his convictions, he often thinks about his righteous fury against splinter or love for his brothers to fuel his powers. 

Donnie: Bolt (escapism) portals (self explanatory)/technopathy. The ability to imbue creations with energy that buffs whatever they were built to do. The only power that lingers after he stops actively using it, very useful!.

[xiaoriae]

SIMON SAYS.

— PAIRING ; alhaitham x gn!reader

— GENRE ; borderline platonic relationship and fluff.

— WORD COUNT ; 0.9k

— SUMMARY ; alhaitham thought he needed to remind you that this one bad habit of yours should not be a thing for your future assignment under his supervision.

— CONTENT ; akademiya student!reader, the setting is at the library in the middle of the night, reader is alhaitham’s student/apprentice (idk anymore), alhaitham calls reader as angel twice, nothing too vague except that alhaitham is quite bold near the end.

— NOTES ; this is a repost from my old blog! i am quite sorry if alhaitham is slightly ooc, i wrote this piece way before he was officially playable, or that i wrote this when he was like just out in the game.

disclaimer: some things from the scenario aren’t aligned with the real lore alhaitham has in-game, so please, take this with a grain of salt!

“simon says do not procrastinate.”

“excuse me?” you halted whatever things your hands were currently doing, before alhaitham quietly sat in front of you, body facing directly at your side, all papers were scattered throughout the table. even when it was already dark outside, this was the consequence you had to face; staying up late to finish your report.

beside the dimmed light coming from the lantern to illuminate his strikingly built figure, one thing was clear enough to you. he was scolding you behind those childish words.

“you’re so... unbelievable,” you sighed. “if i must say so myself.”

“oh?” alhaitham seemed to find joy in your reaction. he knew that you tended to do things in the very last minutes. contrary to popular belief that alhaitham hated handling those kind of students, surprisingly, he ended up going along well with one student from that trope in the akademiya; you.

sometimes, over the past few years, he more often left with how did you even manage to enter the prestigious academy, but he saw how quick you were in doing things efficiently at the very last few minutes—now that he thought of it, it was definitely his bad to think quite lowly of you in the first place—but as someone who was quite an excellent student himself, he scared that the harsh world of knowledge at the akademiya might result in a more devastating ending for you and your study.

it just happened that alhaitham also cared about you more than he thought he would. the sheer thought of you couldn’t further your study at the akademiya gave him slight chills and fear. no, for him to see and supervise you everyday as his ‘student’, he needed to remind you that this bad habit couldn’t last long, especially when everyone around you was greedy enough to obtain new knowledge everyday.

he had already seen worst, of course he didn’t want all bad things happened to you.

“see?” he didn’t move an inch from his position, and god, he was actually distracting you. “this is what i have told you,” he tapped his index finger onto the paper you were currently writing. “—that if you actually followed my instructions and the guidelines, you would not be here until 4 a.m. just to end the report,” you hated how accurate he was, and you admitted that it was your fault for not listening attentively to his briefing about the year-end report he had kindly taught the format last month.

some newer students were complaining about how senior graduates weren’t that much of a help, but you, you were actually so lucky to have alhaitham as the person who took you under his wing. (of course, the first few days weren’t going well due to how you could sense his distaste about all this stupid system of senior-junior thing the akademiya recently incorporated, but literally everyone said you should be thankful to whoever that put you under one of the smartest people in the recent years of akademiya.)

“then why did you insist to join me? i know you’re exhausted and all,” you scoffed. “..and it is nearing 4 a.m,” you didn’t dare to look up once again and met his orange pupils—sometimes, you shrugged off the fact that you might be crushing on him but his eyes were definitely the most beautiful ones you’d ever seen coming from someone else’s—but instead continued to pretend that you were busy thinking to form extensive sentences in your report.

“angel, you need to submit this report by tomorrow, isn’t it?” you almost coughed at the sudden name he called you, and almost dropping your pen right then and there, but you fortunately knew how to contain it well and acted like you didn’t bother by how smooth the word slipped past his throat when he said that. “so, tell me, when should i check your final draft? you need to have my approval first, or the sages will come for you.”

“the most rational timing would be after i have finished my report..” you slapped away all the coming thoughts mentally when you found yourself stuck with him for the past few hours in the library and how suffocating the air was now that you just realised that he did shift his seat to see your progress clearer.

and of course, the manly heat radiating off of him was becoming more evident.

“yes,” he nodded, fully unaware at how even the closeness ticked you off so bad. you were already consumed with guilt, but your brain seemed to stop working because of him, or, because of your exhaustion state. and you needed to act out fast for this report to finish because you didn’t want to burden him with your presence or, wait, was it because you didn’t want to stay with him any longer?

“now that you figured it out,” alhaitham finally stood up straight, but your stomach ultimately dropped when he walked agonizingly slow, seemed like he didn’t feel sleepy as much as you did. “next year, for your thesis, let’s end it in a more systematic way, hm?” 

his lips brushed your flaming cheeks ever so slightly as he whispered those words, but maybe it was just your own illogical thoughts. “because angel, you seem so out of place with me all this time,” he redacted his body away from you, but maybe you were just imagining things because of how dizzy you’d gotten. but his words made you felt like hiding underneath the table because he knew. oh, how unprofessional of you.

he knew. of course he knew all this time. about you, and the report. it was the alhaitham after all.

all rights reserved © berrywoo 2023 strictly on tumblr only. any form of wrongdoings under the copyright law is strictly prohibited.

[lornaka]

Thoughts on TBB s2 finale

Spoilers under the cut. Most of this is a compilation of thoughts I’ve previously expressed on twitter and discord so nothing new to some of you perhaps! Disclaimer: I still love the show with my whole heart and greatly respect the hard work of everyone who worked on it, so please don’t hate on the show in replies and comments to this post. Either keep it to relevant constructive criticism of the narrative and thoughtful analysis/discussion, or make your own posts, thanks

Idk I was just left.. hollow after s2 finale of tbb, like, there were no upsides/positive stimulating moments? It didn't leave me with an excited feeling for what's to come, more like "this is very bleak and miserable, I want s3 purely in the hope of it getting better somehow". I really was expecting some sort of catharsis from tbb s2 finale but got the complete opposite. It's a tell that something didn't work for me when I got no inspiration to draw anything tbh. S1 finale was confusing and not all that happy too but it left.. idk, something to be hopeful about, something affirming to it, amidst all destruction and separation.  I wonder what s3 will look like with this sort of a cliffhanger. Unless they somehow resolve it in the first few episodes of the next season, the whole format would have to be changed, no more one-off adventures between the main plot heavy episodes etc. Regarding Hunter and his complete lack of emotionality and motivation outside of his relationship with Omega, at this point I seriously can’t tell if the writers are purposefully writing Hunter in a way that makes him come off as, well, failing as a brother and a leader. All I know is that after each finale, s1 and s2, I’m left with a desire for him to own up to his mistakes to grow. I love Hunter a lot and I enjoy flawed characters with good hearts. But when they mess up, I want the narrative to frame it such, and for them to grow from there. Otherwise it’s just inconsistent writing. At this moment, I feel like Hunter needs a “redemption” arc as much as Crosshair, as far as family drama and letting each other down goes. This is why I was so happy when it seemed like they’d finally go to rescue Crosshair specifically (welp.) They needed to do that imo, Hunter most of all, he needs to own up to leaving his brother behind once and for all and actually *do* smth about it. Was it understandable when they had to flee and couldn’t come back for Cross before they knew about the chips and arguably after? Absolutely. Doesn’t change the fact that Cross was left behind and got hurt, doesn’t make it better. So even if Hunter’s decision is justified, his lack of regret over his brother getting hurt in the process is not. I can see him repressing it all bc that’s Hunter, he is the king of repressing his emotions for the sake of moving forward, but his issues do not excuse him, and I want him to gain awareness and grow past these issues.  And speaking of Crosshair. It’s so weird, structurally if nothing else, how the previous few episodes built up all these emotional stakes over Crosshair, specifically his withstanding intense torture from Hemlock meant to break him just to protect his siblings, only for the finale to completely drop the ball on it. Tech sacrifices himself on a mission he specifically urged Hunter to go on because “Crosshair is still our brother” and then Hunter is like “yeah let’s not waste Tech’s sacrifice and forget all about Crosshair, okay?”. It made no freaking sense.  S1 finale left me confused & unsatisfied with the way characters reactions didn’t fit some of their previously stablished experiences and narrative arcs. S2 put things in perspective for me somewhat, so my best hope is that s3 does the same to resolve my confusion over s2 finale.  When it comes down to basic story break down, the core theme of TBB gotta be either about a family coming together, or it is about a family separating, one way or another. Until s2 finale I was convinced it was about coming together but now.. “We don’t leave our own behind” seemed like a clear set up for the coming together theme. Now it feels almost like a misdirection, an ironic twist to subvert our expectations or mb to explore how old convictions/priorities of these characters crashed against new realities of life.  And now that they’ll never truly be able to be a whole family again (allegedly), my hope for the main theme to circle back to a family coming together in a satisfying way has been critically diminished tbh. I think it could still work with someone dying, but def not like this. Even if everyone else survives and sticks together and Cross comes back, he’ll never have closure over Tech’s absence, for example. There will be no satisfaction for us as the audience in his brother’s sacrifice on a mission to save him, no pay-off. Then what is the point?  A character death is a very powerful tool within the story, so when it happens, it needs to be done extremely right to hit the right emotional chords and not just cause frustration. What frustrates me, personally, is not the factual death of a character in the canon version of the events, but when the presentation and use of it makes no sense to me in the story but the writers are trying to sell it to me as if it should. Then I feel like I’m being emotionally manipulated and nothing makes me feel more betrayed tbh. I can come up with an infinite number of explanations for Tech’s survival. It’s incredibly easy to suspend my disbelief and just say “somehow he survived”. But if the creators themselves actively try to beat me over the head with their insistence that no, it happened and I should be sad over it, nope. That’s telling, not showing. If you want me to feel strong emotion, make me, don’t tell me that I’m supposed to be sad over a character dying just because you decided to kill them to make me sad. As for Tech’s status, the whole Schrodinger Tech situation is exactly the same as Cross’s chip in s1 finale. Everything in the narrative (Hemlock bringing his goggles is sus as hell, 100% reads as hints at him recovering Tech and then lying to Hunter to manipulate him) points to it being one way (Cross’s chip still affecting him, Tech surviving) but knowing the writers, my gut tells me it’s exactly what they say on the surface with their words and he’s gone. I hope I’m wrong because the way this death was handled is meaningless and closes so many possibilities, like I mentioned above with the family coming together in a satisfying way etc. It just doesn’t work for the story beyond cheap emotional shock value imo.  So here we are. I decided to chill until s3 and hope things will make sense as the story progresses and the intentions of the writers become clear. Right now they sure as hell aren’t. 

[trilobi-te]

Chipspeech Twitter Archive Update

Hi I should have done this months ago.. I do not know when (or if) I am going to finish that website lmao. So I am just going to share my notes from Google Docs. Should be easier to read than the original posts and helpful as a starting point if anyone else decides to make a website :3

The documents are all on commenting mode so feel free to make comments to bookmark things for yourself or write your thoughts or whatever. Under the cut I have put some formatting notes.

It's a folder, each year of Twitter posts is its own document (I tried to compile them into one but it lagged too much). There is also a document with all of the original Tumblr posts (from the accounts I could find, no tags yet but I will go back and get them eventually, also no dates but they're all from 2015), and one with the bios from the official website for ease of access.

The formatting is a little (a lot) weird and there are probably pictures that need resizing/transcription but I figured it's better to give people access now. The text is small (to keep the page count as low as possible) so you will have to zoom in.

It goes by day, organized with a bulleted list. The top level bullets are each character that tweeted that day. The second level bullets are original tweets/retweets by that character. The third+ level bullets are comment threads under that tweet, the organization here is inconsistent but imo still readable (if you think something needs an edit for clarity let me know and I'll fix it).

For each character's section of the list, normal text is that character's tweets/comments. Italicized text is anyone who is not that character. If it is labeled with unitalicized text, it is that character/important account (e.g. the official Chipspeech account), otherwise it is a fan. I also included some labels and/or clarifying comments for Vocaloid producers I like, they're not central to the story though

I got rid of the line breaks within the tweets when copying them down because it was easier to format. Sorry about that. Idk how to fix it other than going through everything again but it doesn't take away from the story so I'm leaving it for now.

If something came from a website other than Twitter, I tried to provide the link (unless its content was deleted). I did my best to transcribe the Clyp posts that were not deleted.

If something is a text-only retweet, it is marked with [retweet]. If it includes an image, it's probably a screenshot of the whole thing. I only included retweets that felt story-relevant (so no miscellaneous cat pictures, Apple-related aesthetic images, etc.), but if people really want it I can go back and add the rest.

Deleted tweets are noted with [deleted tweet], with the characters they came from if applicable. Idk how Twitter works but it the person in the thread is replying to the username of a certain character, I assumed it was that character's tweet that had been deleted. If something says [deleted Dandy thread], assume there is a deleted Dandy tweet in between each of the listed tweets (or another character, but it's usually Dandy). That was meant to be a temporary time-saver and I've gone back and fixed the ones I've found, but there's probably more I accidentally skipped.

Anything not in English is translated in a comment. Except the X-Sampa (I will fix that sometime but there's not much of it). Also it was done with the built-in Google Translate feature so it may be a little incorrect. Unclear pictures and whatnot also have clarifying comments. I can add more clarifying comments (or image IDs) if anyone needs them.

I tried not to include any unattributed fanart but there are some that I forgot to copy the handle for (I am also fixing these when I find them).

As for any future updates to this folder as a whole, I kind of want to go back through each account's liked tweets to see if there's anything funny in there but idk when that will be. That would probably be its own document.

Honestly I should have given everyone access back in June.. oops. If you have any questions you can put them in a comment on this post (or reach out to me another way, idk). As I mentioned before, feel free to use all of this as a starting point if you're making your own website.

I'll pin this post so it's findable in the future. Also sorry for disappearing for several months (it will happen again).